#take some time to be single for fucksake . give back to yourself and get to know who u are and grow some selflove

[29121996]

.

[nicklightbearer]

whatever here is the fic

we happy few, nick lightbearer is once again hunted by foggy jack but this time he fights back. just..... not.... well.

this is a tickling fanfic fair warning <3

“Nick.. Nick!”

Rolling over, Nick Lightbearer grumbled and pulled the sheets over his head.

“Virgiiiiiiiiillll.. Five more minutes…” “In five minutes you’ll be dead, idiot! Up, up!”

Nick blinked a few times before feeling a small something land on his stomach- with a high-pitched screech, he sat bolt upright, scrambling to throw the blankets off. There was an oof! from the floor where they landed, and Nick shivered as he peered over the bed.

A rat. There had been a rat- wait- Virgil?

“.. What? What! You’re dead! I- I already avenged you- what do you want now??”

The rat huffed indignantly.

“Well, maybe I’m trying to keep your stupid arse alive, huh? He’s headed here already- so put some pants on, for god’s sake, and find a weapon!” “He? He who?” “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Who do you think??”

Who would- ah bollocks. Nick leapt to his feet, clutching at the wall for support as his head spun. God, even the reds and yellows were wearing on him..

“Foggy- Foggy Jack?? But I- I thought he-“ “Oh, come on. Put two and two together, Nicky.” “Ooh, if you weren’t dead, I’d right love to throttle you for the stupid vague clues…”

Virgil wheezed out a laugh that made Nick roll his eyes as he dug through the dresser.

“You may have blasted the bastard right hard, but it’d take more than a riff or two to kill a man. He’s more starstruck than ever, now.” “See, that wasn’t so hard! Straight answers, Virg, straight answers!”

The room wavered again and Nick cursed angrily as he toppled over trying to pull his slacks up.

“Who taught you how to quip back, huh?” “Could have something to do with the fuckin’.. Broken mood booth outside.”

Grumbling, he finally managed to stand up and pull his pants up proper, tugging on his jacket with only a moment’s hesitation. The blue one, yes, he’d rather wear dark colors if he’s hiding from a serial killer.

“Anyway- where is he now?”

There was a pause, and Nick looked up. The rat was gone.

“Virgil..? Dammit.”

A sudden jiggling of his door handle made him gasp, and he backed away before bolting towards the window.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckit in a bucket, ooh, I don’t have my-“

The front door splintered under a heavy blow, and Nick squealed another curse to himself before nearly leaping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

”Guitar!” “Mr. Lightbearer.. Do open up, please! I brought ahh.. Some whiskey! A gift from a fan!”

It almost gave him pause before he shook his head wildly.

“No, no. Focus, Nicky!”

He cast his gaze around the room in a panic. Empty pill bottles littered the sink and floor, and he shoved a few of them out of the way to rummage through the cabinet. Nothing.

Nothing but a plunger next to the toilet- though he considered it, the flimsy weight felt more useless than his own fists, and he discarded it quickly.

That left.. the tub.

Wait. The tub! He leaned over to whip the curtain back, and cringed slightly at the sight of the woman inside- thank god, she was clothed. But in her hand was his goal- just last night, he’d been on the.. Receiving end of…

Pulling it carefully from her grasp, he sighed in relief before jolting at the sound of the door splintering again. Fuck, fuck! He couldn’t let Jack see this poor bird- wait-

Checking her pulse, he sighed in relief. Okay, problem for later. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman woke up alone in his house. He quickly pushed out the door again, closing it and jiggling the lock just to make sure it wouldn’t open again- yep!

Then again, that left only himself and the eye that now peered through his former front door, which was largely splintered to bits. He backed up a little before dashing to his bedroom, both hoping and not hoping that Jack would follow.

“Ohh, Mr. Lightbearer… Nicky~!” The slip from formal to a deeper purring tone sent a shiver down the rockstar’s spine, and he clutched at his makeshift weapon nervously as he pushed his back against the door.

“Hey, lock it and get back, idiot! He just broke the other one down, what happens when he slams an axe through this one??” “Virgil- ooh, you’re right!”

He’s always right. Nick jumped back, casting his gaze around the room after clicking the lock shut. Not much to work with, really, but he could.. He could hide- er- well, the closet would be too obvious, right? Or would it be so obvious that he wouldn’t check?

“No, he knows you’re stupid, Nick. Fucksakes.” “Well, what- ooh!”

Pulling open the dresser drawers, he started throwing clothes on the floor next to the window. The rat perched on top of the dresser sighed as he watched, but Nick ignored him for the moment.

“And what, pray tell, is the plan here? D’you have a gun you never told me about? A machete? Hell, even a baseball bat-” “No- I’m fine for weapon, thanks. This is- well- you’ll see!”

Shouldn’t say it out loud, not with how the door groaned as a weight was thrown against it. Nick shuddered as he pushed the clothes haphazardly closer to the wall, then scooted behind the curtain. The pile on the floor was enough to hide his feet- and the curtains were against a black window, so no light would give him away…

It wasn’t perfect. But if the closet was checked first, he’d have the upper hand.

The door splintered after only a few more hits, and Nick held his breath. He could just barely see through the fabric, having his face so close- and seeing Jack again, albeit this time with a slightly more ruffled appearance, made his heart leap into his throat. Terror was enough to keep his fist gripping the weapon, and he watched with wide eyes as the killer stalked into the room, the red glimmer from his own eyes casting an eerie light over the room as a cloud of fog rolled in after him.

It was nothing if not dramatic, he mused, almost inspired by the sight if he hadn’t been fearing for his life.

Jack hummed to himself as he glanced around the room, the familiar tune to Cheer Up bringing a grimace to Nick’s face. Genuinely, the guy was still a fan- it felt bad to be holding a weapon towards any fan for any reason, but..

Seeing the glittering knife that Jack held whipped his perspective back instantly. Fuck, this guy was absolutely bonkers- though, granted, that only made him feel worse- he couldn’t afford to be wishy-washy about this!

As predicted, Jack didn’t even notice the curtains, instead peering under the bed before turning towards the closet.

“Nick, Nick, Nick… Really, I can’t believe you’d let yourself be cornered so easily. Really, I expected more resistance. No activated security system-”

Fuck! He’d forgotten to turn it on in his drunken stupor the night before!

“No bobbies to guard the house, and not a single manager in sight.. Oh, wait!”

A flash of anger nearly made him leap out right there- but no, he’d wait and bide his time.. For just the right moment…

As Jack grasped the handle on the closet, Nick tensed.

“I suppose you don’t have one of those, do you?”

He flung the doors wide with a taunting laugh that died slowly, his outstretched arms lowering with confusion.

“What..?”

Now!

Nick leapt from his hiding place, nearly tripping on all the clothes but somehow managing to stumble so that he was standing on the bed- not unlike someone hiding away from a mouse, except the mouse was a person and that person had a big knife with his name on it, possibly literally.

However, his unsure footing made him miss his target of ‘back of the skull, god, please let me just knock him out’ and instead slam the instrument across Jack’s back. The impact made him tense, and he squeezed the handle nervously-

Only for electricity to zip out of it, making his palms tingle as the killer gasped. Oh, fuck on a stick.

But.. Something was off. Rather than immediately whipping to stab him, Jack stumbled, slamming against the dresser and clutching at his suit.

“What- what in the blazes-”

Well, no time for hesitation! He swung again, this time holding the button down with purpose. Anything to catch this guy off guard, right? It was also far easier to tap repeatedly at his body rather than his head, and… It worked.

Somehow, it worked. Jack’s arms were glued to his sides and he shimmied away from the assault, expression shifting from a confused pout to a more.. Well, his cheeks puffed out and he cringed, but a smile still seemed to tug at his lips. This smile was different, though, and seemed far more genuine than the mask let on.

“Stop- hey, stop! What- waha- wait!”

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Foggy Jack. Serial killer, menace to society, his personal fuckin’ stalker….. Was ticklish.

Okay. Okay. Well, this information was definitely going to be put to use- let’s see- right the fuck now. Nick slid down from the bed, using the Tickler to bop Jack closer to it- an easy task, given that he nearly tripped himself right onto it. With a quick push.. Perfect!

Foggy Jack was now on his bed. Disheveled, covering his mouth to hold back giggles, and with an expression bordering on infatuation shining out from behind his hand.

For a minute, he was stunned, before remembering the knife. Glancing down, though- oh, he wasn’t holding it. He’d dropped it- there, on the floor.

Jeez, it was almost like he didn’t want to kill Nick.

….. Shelving that thought to dwell on later, Nick grinned with as much menace as he could muster.

“Well, well, well. Ya know, mister Foggy Jack, you’re not half so scary like this.”

Jack yelped as the Tickler was pushed squarely against the middle of his stomach, trying to grab it but letting go quickly as Nick tapped the button a few times. The sensations of light electricity dancing across his torso quickly gave rise to more giggles, ones that he could hardly hold back for all the delight he clearly felt.

“Really! Sheesh, if I’d known about this before, all this lot of stuff would have been so much easier.. Hey, arms up!”

Nick huffed, pushing the arms that seemed nearly glued to his sides before just wiggling a hand between sleeve and shirt. For practiced fingers like his, coaxing out more shocked laughter was easy- and with the Tickler now running up and down his stomach, Jack finally broke.

“Waihihihit! No- stop! St- ahaha! It tickles!” “Well, I sure fuckin’ hope it does, lovely… That’s the point.”

Though, to be honest, he wasn’t sure how to handle things from here. Sure, he could wear out Jack and- wait, perfect. He’d just tickle the man until he properly passed out, then run and find a bobby. Perfect!

Though, as he watched the man writhe beneath him, escalated to proper laughter as skilled fingers squeezed at his sides and the Tickler continued tormenting his stomach, he was a tad hesitant. The ticklish near-agony that made shrieks ring out was… Hm, fun!

As he listened to more of that adorably broken-up laughter, he wondered how addicting this sort of drug might be.

“PLEHEASE- DON’T- DON’T TICKLE ME- IHI CAN’T, I CAN’T TAKE IT! M- MAHAHA- NNNNICK!” “That’s Mr. Lightbearer to you, mister Foggy. Go on, ask me proper to quit, maybe I’ll think about it. Probably not.” “Mr. Light- eehee! Lightbeareheher! Please!” “Please what??” “Plehehease- dOHON’T! Stoooohohop tickling mehehe!” “Don’t stop tickling you? Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart!”

Though the petname didn’t go unnoticed by either of them, Nick chose to eliminate any chance of a response by ducking down- the sudden closeness of their faces made Jack go silent, breathless with both laughter and starstruck awe. Nick winked before ducking his face down and  blowing a raspberry right against his neck, sliding the Tickler to press down against his torso again.

The response was immediate. Jack flailed wildly and cackled, beating at Nick’s back weakly as he choked out wordless pleas. Of course, none of them were heeded, and a few more raspberries were instead strategically placed on the man’s neck. In all his years, even knowing that most people were at least a little ticklish around the face (due to the masks, certainly), he’d never garnered a reaction quite this intense. Must be extra sensitive- therefore, weak, and the wheezes between laughs made Nick grin.

It was honestly.. Kinda cute. He was glad that his goal was to tickle the man to pieces, since otherwise he’d normally give a break by now.

As the struggling became weaker, and the laughs reached pitches that frequently dipped into silent snorts, Nick hummed to himself. Now would be a good a time as ever to drop a little.. Finale, let’s say. He pulled back for a moment, easily readjusting their positions- now, with Jack laying limply on the bed and only weakly with his arms linked around his waist, he climbed on after him properly. It wasn’t hard to sit above his prey, wiggling his fingers a little for extra effect- and relishing in the burst of giggles and flinch- before tapping his chin.

“Now, let’s see.. Something tells me you’re nearly tuckered out. But I’m not quite done, oh no.” “N.. No??”

Something about the way his voice was suddenly softer, even shy in a way- it made Nick’s stomach do a few flips.

“No! Of course not. You’ve been awful rude, banging my door down and threatening me. But I can put that behind us.”

Bending down again, he placed a hand on either side of Jack’s head, their faces nearly touching- once again, Jack held his breath, eyes wide.

“.. Close your eyes for me, Jacky.”

The speed at which his hesitation faded to nervousness, then to giddy anticipation.. It was adorable. Jack finally closed his eyes, then covered his face with a shuddering giggle.

From there, it was easy for Nick to unbutton his jacket- and even easier to bury his face against Jack’s stomach, nibbling through the shirt and earning a new set of squeals.

“No! No- ahaha- ooh, you-!” “Go on, give me a laugh! Just for me, Jacky! Ooh, those could be lyrics..”

He hummed a bit with the idea before returning to his previous actions- and it wasn’t long before the laughter died down, Jack barely writhing beneath him. Nick sat up eventually, finally giving it a rest as he watched the killer gasp a few times before he was silent.

… He leaned forward to check for a pulse. Yep. Hammering away, actually, but calming down.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to do. Sitting back on Jack’s legs, he gazed down, watching him sleep with a foggy confusion building in the back of his skull.

Sure, a bobby might.. Be able to help. But he was so tired. And Jack was warm- warmer than he expected, and…

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. He did crawl over to the side of the bed to push the knife under the dresser, first, but.. Yes, a nap.

Popping a spare Joy he found under one of his shirts, he flopped onto the bed, resolving to take care of the matter later. It was probably fine.

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Eleven (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4.2k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

You run your fingers over the white cotton sheet, trying to ignore the fact that you’re currently inside of the training center. You’d be able to recognize this place with your eyes closed. It’s made out of concrete with all the newest technologies. The people that are walking around here--especially the avoxes--have the same clothes and designs as the people inside of the training center.

Of course, the avoxes change clothes, but the things they wear are still outstanding and degrading to differentiate them from everyone else. They still look as best as they possibly can while also looking like a servant. That doesn’t mean that they can’t re-wear clothes though, which is exactly what’s happened.

The avox that stands in the corner of your room wears the same black and white plaid outfit that they wore during the night of the interviews. It’s a terrifying outfit, really. You absolutely hate it, which is another reason why you’re avoiding eye contact. You’d ask them to turn around if it weren’t for the fact that she has to keep an eye on you.

The doors to your “hospital room” are glass, you can see right through them. Which also means that you’re able to watch the doctors that come in and out of rooms. Some push carts, others don’t. It doesn’t really matter, all that does is that there’s brief moments where someone isn’t in the hallway.

They all look so rushed, as if they’re working on some sort of deadline. How fast they’ll move…

It’s almost as if there’s something going on out there. Or they don’t want you catching on to what’s happening.

“Huh.” you push yourself up from the bed, impatient at the lack of attention that you’re getting, compared to whatever is going on out there.

As soon as you get too close to the glass, the avox jerks forward and grabs a hold of your arm. It’s not a tight grasp, she just pulls you back a little, and then lets go. Hell, from what you can see, she’s fearful. Like you’ll blow up on her or something.

“Is someone coming, then? Soon?” you ask, and she nods.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you take a seat on the bed again. This time, you find something to occupy yourself. Firstly, there’s no cut on the back of your head anymore, it feels like. No bump, no dip, it might be completely healed. It really just means that you’ve been here for a couple of days.

As for everything else that has happened to you--it’s gone. No more scabs from the man-eating spiders. Your skin is smooth, but that doesn’t excuse every single little scar that it’s left behind. 

Your heart twists, you hold your arms out in front of you, seeing the fresh scars. Next are your legs, which are even fresher. They’ve still got that bright color to them, not yet blending into your skin tone. And it’s probably because you didn’t pay as much attention to your legs as you did your upper body.

Which was because your upper body was being televised. For the rest of that day, you were only in a sports bra. There really wasn’t a point in your eyes to just strip down the bottom half of the suit to apply ointment that wouldn’t even stay put. No one would be seeing it anyway.

The scars are fixable, you think. It’ll cost money, but you can get clear skin again--’polished’ as they say. It would have to come before the rest of the tattoos, though… and the old tattoos would also have to be fixed in that case. A lot of money, and you’re not too fond of fixing those tattoos. They’re memories, keepsakes.

You could always just get the rest of your body fixed, and leave your arms alone to avoid all the fixing stuff. It’s your best bet.

You look to your left wrist to see the soulmate words. You rub your thumb over them for a moment, and then scowl.

They left you behind. They left you with Johanna and Peeta, which was the worst thing that they could have done.

They didn’t even wait. Or even try with you standing there--it’s not like they couldn’t have seen you! You were standing right fucking there beneath their noses. And with how everything had gone down, you’re sure they could have afforded one more drop. There was more than enough time.

The glass doors slide open, making you look up.

You can’t help the amount of rage that shoots through your veins instantly.

“And so we meet again,” the words are bitter out of your mouth, you press your lips together in a thin line.

President Snow.

He motions the avox out of the room, and she listens without hesitance. With that, Snow sits in the chair--that you hadn’t even noticed was there--and crosses his legs.

“Yes we do.” he says.

You clench and unclench your teeth while you stare at him, trying not to have an attitude, since this man can kill you with the snap of his fingers and not even feel remorse for it. However, it all goes out the window because he’s sitting right in front of you with a smug look.

This motherfucker has ruined your life over and over and over.

Before your first games, you had it good. You had a big, loving family. You had two sisters and three brothers, and a pair of parents that would do anything to protect you all. Your grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and cousins were all alive. You had big gatherings during the summers, and cried when they had to go home.

And then you volunteered for the games, as you were instructed to do. You won your games, and at the end of your so-very-rich victory tour, he presents you with the worst fucking offer you’ve ever heard. Sell yourself for more money. Money, jewels, riches, clothes, love--adoration. 

Except, it wasn’t an offer, he was telling you. But what he wasn’t telling you, was that he was picking off those cousins, those aunts, uncles and grandparents. Next were those siblings of yours, and when you said no for the final time, your parents. You came home to a fucking massacre in your childhood home.

Everyone looked like they were frozen in place. They were shot, beaten, bruised and bloody, but they were right where they had been when it had happened. Your father was still in his armchair, your mother face-down in dirty sink water, your siblings playing in their rooms, reading books, sleeping. 

It was all the same for the rest of your family too.

And when the first fucking check with your victory money came through, you used it all to put them in the ground. You basically had your own fucking cemetary. 

The worst part is that you agreed after all that. He had killed everyone, and yet you still went through with it, as if you had anything else to lose. Your family was the only thing that you had left. It wouldn’t be the same if he killed friends, because it’s not you who would be grieving anymore, it would be their family.

While you were touring the Capitol on President Snow’s order, you got the tattoos done. You had the flowers done first for your family, every name had a flower that reminded you of them, and at your wrist would be the soulmate tattoo. You had your left arm done first so that the Capitol people would think that you were being sweet.

Then you had the graveyard done. And along came the graveyard, came the nastiest fucking attitude any of them had seen. It only took a week before Snow basically packaged you up and sent you back to District Two. He has to admit that it was smart of you to do that. And for fucksake, you’d do it again.

The attitude is a defense mechanism to keep the people who are too weak-hearted and manipulative-looking away. Only the ones who don’t care, stick through it. And they tend to be the more understanding type on top of that.

The last time that you saw President Snow--other than on tv or in person as the tribute parade--was when he tried to convince you to allow Tanith to be sold around the same way you were.

You felt so fucking smart then, for picking her out specifically. You basically told Snow ‘good luck’ with trying to find anyone she cared about to kill off. She’s a fucking orphan, and back then she didn’t really like you very much. So, he couldn’t get to her by attacking you.

With Zavian, he just wasn’t desirable.

“Stop staring and get to it already.” you snap, lowering your chin a bit as you bite your cheek.

Snow laughs, “Never was one for small talk.” he pauses for a moment, his face becoming more serious, “What do you know about Katniss Everdeen and her plan?”

Well, this can be a very easy answer, or a very hard one. 

Technically, you don’t know anything. You don’t know any part of the plan that they had going on, except for the fact that they had to keep an eye on Katniss and Peeta the entire time. Just to make sure that they wouldn’t get hurt, killed or ran off. The only thing you had the slightest clue on, was the fucking time on when you guys would get out. And even then, it seemed like that was unplanned.

But at the same time, you know a lot more than you’re supposed to, thanks to that talk with Finnick before the interviews. His question of whether or not you were a loyalist was an immediate click. You knew in that exact moment that he was planning something with the others.

You look over Snow’s face, he’s studying you, waiting patiently. It’s only been a couple of seconds. 

You can’t play dumb, you can’t say anything stupid or he will know and be on your ass almost as quickly as you knew of the plan.

“You want the truth?” you ask him, he motions for you to get started, “I didn’t know anything, I wasn’t told a single thing--I put the pieces together myself, and it wasn’t very easy to do. Which means, I could be completely wrong.”

“Tell me what you think you know, then.” 

“I thought that Finnick, Katniss, Peeta, and Johanna were in an alliance, and that they were all getting along.” you lean forward, “I was wrong. Katniss wanted to kill Finnick in the cornucopia until he showed her some dumb bracelet that belonged to Haymitch.

“I only stuck around them inside of the arena cause Finnick and I are soulmates.” you hold up your wrist for Snow to see, “I wouldn’t have dreamt of doing it otherwise.”

Snow squints at you, ignoring your arm, “What else?”

“Finnick and I had a conversation thirty minutes prior to the interviews.” you lift your chin a little now, trying to recall the entire conversation, “The basis was an alliance between him and I, at least. I chose to ask because of the scores that they had all gotten, thinking that it would be better to be on their good side. I didn’t want to be hunted.”

Snow watches you hesitate, and you know that there’s no way you can avoid this now.

The thing is, you’re trying to not get anyone in trouble, while also saving your own ass, and it’s hard to do. Because you don’t owe any of them a single thing, but there’s something in your chest telling you to do it anyway. 

You feel… anxious. And it’s your own emotion.

Your voice is quieter, “Finnick had asked me a peculiar question just before the conversation was over, and I still don’t know what it means.” Snow won’t be able to tell if you’re being truthful or not, “He asked me if I was a loyalist.”

Snow hums, rubbing his white beard, “That’s not it.”

You shake your head, “That’s it. Finnick knew that I had wanted to be in their alliance to be able to kill him and the others. He said that he wouldn’t let me in because of that, and then he asked me if I was a loyalist. I told him I didn’t know what he’s getting at.” you draw your eyebrows together, “That’s when Haymitch came around the corner, must’ve heard us talking or something. He said that the interviews had started, and the conversation ended after that.”

“Which hallway?”

“The uh--first hallway to the left if you’re standing in the main corridor. In the direction of leaving the backstage area.” 

Snow nods now, standing to leave.

“When do I get to go home?” you ask, sliding off the bed to get to your feet too. He’s not going to leave the room until he gives you an answer.

“Soon. I want to show you something first.” Snow says, “Get dressed.”

He takes a step out, leaving around the corner. The avox comes in with some clothes, nicely folded in her arms. The doors don’t offer much coverage, but it’s not really anything they haven’t seen before.

You strip, pulling on the new clothing carefully, afraid of hurting your newly healed skin. It’s a pair of black skinny jeans, and a pink shirt with a breast pocket. The avox then holds out a pair of black tennis shoes for you to slip on after that. And when you’re done, she leads the way out of the room.

You follow her down the hall, passing by everyone who’s moving so quickly. When you get a glance through the windows into the courtyard, you can see that you’re on the base floor, and the building towers over you.

The hallways wind confusingly, but the avox manages. She has this place memorized as if there’s a map in her mind. For a while, you’re confident and unaware of your surroundings, until you pass through a hallway with cages. Only then do you get apprehensive.

Snow is in the next room, which is a corridor of white. The avox backs off, standing in the corner, and you take it upon yourself to approach Snow by yourself. He’s in front of a particular door, staring through the window in the door.

“Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair and Beetee Latier have been taken to District Thirteen, did you know that?” Snow asks, he looks at you briefly, before back through the door.

There’s a sick feeling in your stomach.

“No, I didn’t.” You don’t want to see what’s through that window.

“But you knew that they were taken out of the arena.”

Just thinking about that night gives you a goddamn headache, especially with all that happened afterwards.

After the hovercraft had left, you stared for what felt like forever. Feeling dejected and betrayed, especially with all the time that had been left over. No one came for you, so it was up to you to decide what would happen next.

When you had finally gotten over your feelings, you went ahead and found Johanna, who was right next to a panicked Peeta. Screaming in her face about how all of that was her fault. Johanna took it like a champ, with her mouth sealed shut and everything. But the second that you were there, Peeta turned on you like a rabid dog.

You tried to take a page from Johanna’s book as you calmly explained to him that Katniss, Finnick and Beetee were taken by a hovercraft. 

Peeta didn’t like that, and with him getting in your face, an anger was rising from your stomach to your throat. Like simmering grease, only you’re not supposed to let grease simmer. Because it gets dangerous, begins to pop and burn the skin, and that was exactly what had happened.

You tried to get Peeta to back off, because you didn’t want to make a huge mistake with Johanna standing two feet away. But he kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing so you swung. He fell, and when he tried to get back up, still running his fucking mouth, you lost it.

You hadn’t felt that angry since you found out that your entire family was dead. You did everything you could possibly imagine to harm Peeta in that moment. The first kick to his ribs was the weakest, but the second definitely left some sort of damage. Then Johanna tried to come over, and you knocked her out without a second swing.

Peeta would have gotten the absolute shit beaten out of him if it weren’t for the second hovercraft that had shown up. Only, this one dropped peacekeepers, and you knew instantly that you were in huge trouble. With the arena falling apart, the fire eating at the forest around you, the lack of Katniss, Beetee and Finnick due to an earlier hovercraft, and the fact that you were clearly grouped up with the two morons.

Johanna was an easy grab, Peeta fought relatively hard, and there was no struggle from you. The only thing you actually remember is getting a sedative inside of the hovercraft, and that was it.

“Yes, I knew that they were taken out of the arena.” you answer Snow, blinking a bit to refocus your eyes, “And that means that Peeta and Johanna are here.”

Snow moves aside for you to see inside, and with the pucker of your lips, you move over to see inside. You clench your teeth, expecting the worst, and when you do finally look in, it’s… you can’t put it into words.

Peeta is strapped to a chair, malnourished, purple eye bags that are see able even from this distance. He looks nothing like he did before, he looks gross. Like a…

Like a boy that would have to file for tesserae to eat for the next year. A kid from the Seam.

You swallow thickly, “What the fuck?”

“If I find out that you aren’t telling the truth--” His voice is measured, but there’s an underlying tone, anger, you think, “--then I will bring you back from District Two. And I will be getting the real answers.”

If this is what they’ve done to Peeta--sack of flour, absolutely harmless--you can’t imagine what loudmouth Johanna looks like.

“I’m telling the truth.” you tell him, your eyes flickering back to Peeta.

He’s spotted you now, and the two of you stare at each other, eyes locked and neither of you move. With the look of you, he relaxes. It’s strange that the sight of you gives him so much peace, even though you would have killed him if the peacekeepers hadn’t come. But he must see something in your face, because he draws his eyebrows together, like he’s asking a question.

“How long have I been here?” you ask Snow.

“A couple of weeks.”

You look at him now, “I’ve been in a coma?”

“Medically induced. Those spiders weren’t just flesh-eating, they were venomous too.”

Not to mention your head injury, and everything else that had occurred inside of there. You might as well be lucky to be alive.

“I want you to do something for me, when you do get back to District Two.” Snow says, you look at Peeta again to see that the glass is blocked.

“Which is?”

“Show them that you are a loyalist, and get the rebels to calm down.”

One word spirals up in your mind, strong and stubborn that you struggle to hold down; No.

They have Peeta strapped to that chair like he’s an animal. They’re starving him, they’re depriving him of sleep, and that window is blocked because they’re doing something to him. 

“I’m not agreeing to that until I get to see Johanna and anyone else you have here.” you tell him, “Only then I will try to get two to settle down.”

Snow smiles a little, “You’ll have two weeks.”

You nearly laugh in his face right then, but manage to hold it back, “I don’t have much of a choice, I’ve already agreed, haven’t I?”

Snow nods approvingly, before leading you right next door. In this chair is Johanna. Her hair is shaved, she’s soaking wet, and she’s thrashing against the restraints without control. You take back what you said about Peeta, this is an animal. Doing this to Johanna is like putting an angry lion inside of a small cage. It’s only a matter of time before she gets out and explodes.

She looks just as hungry and tired as Peeta does. But Peeta isn’t getting nearly as bad as tortured as she is. She looks like she’s been through hell and back, as if she’s seen the devil himself and laughed in his face. 

In this case, Snow would be the devil, and she would be the exact fool to do something like that. 

Johanna spots you the same way that Peeta did, by the off chance that her eyes glance over the glass. The second that she has, she relaxes for a moment, and the window is covered almost immediately after.

The both of them had the same reaction upon seeing you. You can’t think of a reason why, until it hits you. They have to be thinking that you’re here to save them. You’re seeing the state that they’re in, and they’re hoping that you’ll relay the message to tell someone of their condition, you’re sure of it.

Snow grabs your arm, yanking you along to the door across from Johanna’s. When you look into this one, you’re a little more confused.

“Annie Cresta wasn’t inside of the hunger games.” you place your hand against the glass, “Why--”

“Leverage.” Snow says simply, “Who would she belong to, Miss Rosecelli? Who would tear the world apart to get to her?”

It dawns on you then, and you nod a little bit. Finnick, obviously. This is Finnick’s girlfriend, the one that you told him to keep. 

“What’s the point of having her if you’re not starving her like the rest?” you ask.

“I do have morals.”

‘Not very high ones’, you think.

“I’m surprised,” you look at Snow, “Considering all the other shit you’ve done, you still have a heart.”

Annie is healthy, that’s all you have to say about her. She’s got rope to twirl and knot, she’s got books to read, food to eat and a nice bed. She’s not strapped to anything, it looks like she has medication, and she’s content. You can’t help but to wonder if she’s secretly going insane or plotting her escape, though.

“One more room.” Snow ignores your comment, ushering you to the door to the right of Annie’s.

You shuffle over, thinking that Snow couldn't have possibly taken anyone else that would matter. Beetee’s girlfriend--or whatever Wiress was to him--is long gone. There’s no leverage to have against her.

“Take a look inside.” he’s smug.

You stare for a moment, before following his directions.

Tanith.

Your hand flies up, going to grab the doorknob, but Snow stops you, a tight hand on your wrist, “Just in case you thought that it’s only your life on the line.”

He’s threatening to kill her.

You clench your teeth together, not removing your eyes from Tanith. She looks almost as bad as the other two do. Except, Tanith is a few days behind. Snow didn’t start the process on her until recently. It won’t take long until she catches up, because he could make that happen at the snap of his wrinkly fucking fingers.

“I understand.” you grind your teeth.

She’s not awake to see you, Snow was anticipating this visit. He had her knocked out so that she wouldn’t try and fight against the restraints. She’s smart enough to slip out of them, it makes you curious if Snow knows that too, or he just wanted to see your reaction to having her unconscious. Like he’s trying to trick you into thinking she’s dead.

“The avox will take you to the hovercraft.” he lets you go, “Two weeks.”

Snow has just made the biggest mistake in his life.

[misscricket]

Your Mouth Makes The Prettiest Noises (When You're Pissing Me Off)

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Canders (Carver Hawke / Anders)

Rating: R for Smut

Prompt: @dankou ‘You’re Hot When You’re Mad’.

Request: You can request a pairing here for Carver smut prompts.

AO3 Link HERE

Your Mouth Makes The Prettiest Noises (When You're Pissing Me Off)

The doors to the Hanged Man crashed open.

Instantly everyone in the tavern looked up, and took in the sight of the dark haired man standing in the double doorway, arms still outstretched and a grin on his handsome face. Most of the patrons recognised him as Garrett Hawke and looked away again, some rolling their eyes at the man’s drama.

Behind him, another dark haired man followed, sighing as he did.

“Must you do that?”

“Course I do, little brother,” Garrett grinned back at him as they made their way across the common room floor and up the stairs to Varric’s private suite, “Hello darlings!” he caroled as he crossed the threshold, spreading his arms again, “Daddy’s home! And look what the mabari dragged in!”

Carver pulled a horrified face behind his back, and slowly slipped into the room behind him.

“Carver!” Isabela waved at him with a wink, “My, my, the Wardens have done wonders with you.”

Beside her Varric chuckled, but nearby Fenris stood up abruptly, “Good,” he barked, voice sharp with annoyance, and for a moment Carver felt disappointment stab through him. Fenris had never seemed to like him, despite his best efforts. He’d hoped things might change, now that he was coming back as a Warden. But then the elf continued, “You can talk to him .”

There was a world of venom in his voice when he spat that word, and Carver blinked, before stepping further into the room to take in the shape of Anders sitting across the table from the irate elf.

“Oh Maker, do I have to?”

A corner of Fenris’ lips quirked up, “Yes. It is your punishment for making your brother worry about you. Sit.”

Carver elected to ignore the comment about his brother, who was currently tapping his fingers on Merrill’s shoulders, while she grinned up at him, and slowly made his way over to take Fenris’ place across the table.

Anders looked older than the last time he’d seen him, more cares worn into his face, and his golden eyes seemed to have lost some of their brightness. He also looked thinner, and Carver shot a glare at his brother. Surely he must have noticed…

“Let me guess.” he turned back to Anders, and smirked faintly, “You were talking about Mages.”

“Of course we were!” Anders scowled at him, “He can’t see how the situation of the Mages here is akin to slavery.”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Except...it isn’t.”

Anders’ eyes locked onto him, and there was a bit more life in his face, and his eyes.

“Andraste’s arse, are you still so bitter about your brother that you can’t look at the reality of the situation!”

Carver felt the old irritation flare, but instead he leaned back in his seat.

“No, I just think you have a terrible habit of using gross simplification to try and emotionally manipulate people into feeling pity for you.”

Anders’ feathers seemed to bristle with profound rage, and nearby, Carver saw Fenris shoot him a thoughtful look.

“How can you-?” Anders spluttered.

“Easily,” Carver leaned forward, “Look I don’t think the Circle is perfect. And the Templar Order is definitely not. And change does need to happen, you’re right about that much at least. But the fact of the matter is that just chucking the Mages out on their own, or treating them as everyone else is...well its stupid.”

“Your brother…”

“Was trained by my father.” Carver interrupted, firmly, “Who was Circle trained and knew exactly what to expect from young children discovering their magic.”

And they had me, he thought silently, the old anxiety clutching his chest before he pushed it ruthlessly away. He was a Warden now, he was no longer the one tasked with that...burden.

“The Templars could have dragged your father and your siblings to the tower.” Anders insisted, “You never would have seen them again. They might have been made Tranquil.”

“It’s not perfect.” Carver leaned back, “But the Templar order is something that in essence is needed. They are supposed to protect the mages...and protect from them as well. But with everything...it can so easily be corrupted by men with their own ideas. Men will always abuse high ideals to get what they want. But that doesn’t make the ideal wrong.”

Anders spluttered at him, and Isabela whistled softly, “Look who’s all grown up…” She leaned in with a wicked grin, “Who knew debating Mage theology could be so….stimulating.”

Carver shook his head at her, and turned back to Anders, who launched into his counter argument. Which Carver zoned out to after a single second because...sodding hell…

There was something about Anders. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, which was already something that Carver liked. He wasn’t pretty, he wasn’t cute...he was however...rather attractive. Especially with his golden eyes flaring with passion, and his lips slowly reddening from the agitated swipes of his tongue.

Something about him had always gotten under Carver’s skin.

At first it had been irritation at how quick Anders started fawning over his bloody brother. Then it had been rage at his casual references to Bethany...focusing only on the part of her that interested him. Her magic. She had been so much more...and he’d...well he’d reacted poorly.

So there was no love lost between them, but still...

It was unfair how attractive he found him. He liked the glimpses of a man behind his mission of Mage freedom, liked the cheeky humour and the flashing grins.

He was sodding gorgeous, and that always made Carver uncomfortable, because he didn’t have Garrett’s easy charm. He couldn’t say something witty and make it sound dashing. He was clumsy and awkward...and despite his friends in the Wardens helping him with it...he still found himself floundering more often than he could like.

So he’d resigned himself to staying quiet about it.

And he opened his mouth to give Anders a rebuttal.

But what came out of his mouth was,

“You’re kind of gorgeous when you’re mad.”

Anders spluttered to a stop and gaped at him. Fenris choked on his wine and Isabella yelped, tumbling off her chair.

Oh Maker…

Internally he felt the panic rising, and so he quickly stood and scooped up his tankard. “I’d better get another drink.”

“Hey!” Varric yelled after him as he beat a quick retreat out of the door, “That’s mine! Junior! Sodding hells…”

He thunked the tankard onto the counter and sighed softly, before gesturing for another one, “Fill both of them up please…”

“What the hell did you mean by that?”

Carver whipped around and gaped at Anders, who stood behind him, arms folded and a frown on his handsome face, “Anders…”

“What did you mean?” Anders growled, “Did you actually mean it or were you...being cruel?”

“Cruel?” Carver blinked at him in surprise, “Maker’s hairy ballsack why would I be cruel?”

“You...oh...you meant it then?”

Carver gave him a disbelieving look, “Yeah, I meant it...Didn’t mean to say it...but the contents...yeah that I meant.”

Anders’ tongue swiped out over his lips again, “So...I’m gorgeous when I’m mad?”

“You’re gorgeous all the time...well all the time you take care of yourself.” He plucked at the other’s coat, “Like, what the hell is this? You’re all skin and bones, Magey.”

Anders’ batted his hands away with a huff, “I’m not skin and bones,”

“You like hunted.” Carver informed him bluntly, “I know what that looks like now. And I also know how much food a Warden needs to eat in order to stay healthy. You are not eating enough.”

“Maker’s breath you fuss as much as Hawke does. Is that how you lot share affection? Fussing someone to death?”

Carver shot Anders a deadpan look and slowly dragged his eyes up the other man’s body, enjoying the flush that sprung up on his pale cheeks.

“Looks more like our fussing is stopping you from dying…” He shot the other a smug smirk, “Magey.”

“Stop that,” Anders scowled, and folded his arms, “We’re getting off track. You think I’m gorgeous.”

“When you’re mad.” Carver agreed, scooping up the new tankard and gulping down a mouthful before the taste hit him and he nearly gagged, “Holy balls of fire thats…” he caught Norah’s eye and wilted, “...good stuff.”

Anders laughed, and Carver turned back to look at him, “You’ve grown up a lot...but you’re still you. I’m glad to see the Wardens haven’t squashed the good parts of you yet.”

Carver frowned and shook his head, “See I don’t get it. You speak of them...with such bitterness. But when I ask them about you…”

Anders’ face crumpled slightly and for a second a painful vulnerability shone through, “They pity me, or hate me for betraying them.”

Carver stared at him, “You’re kidding right? Fucksakes Anders…”

“What?” the blond man blinked at him, “What?”

“They miss you.” Carver said firmly, and clearly, so the man couldn’t misunderstand a word, “They get this sad look, and they talk about you with such fondness. Cousland said she almost had a mutiny on her hands when you left. The others wanted to go after you, bring you back, make sure you were okay and safe. But she insisted they weren’t the Templar order, she didn’t want you caged. ‘If Anders needs us’” he quoted, “‘We’ll be there. He’ll always have a place with the Wardens.”

Anders’ face did something complicated, “You...really?”

Carver nodded and Anders looked away, and the pair of them lapsed into silence, not looking at each other as Carver drank again, fingering Varric’s tankard.

“I should um…-”

“Come back to the clinic with me.”

Carver blinked owlishly at the other man, “You what?”

Anders scowled but folded his arms, “Come back to the clinic. With me. And get naked.” When Carver simply blinked again, Anders rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t pop loose, “With. Me.”

“Oh!” Carver put down his tankard and flushed darkly at the offer and the implication, “Oh...you want to...with me?”

“You are hopeless at this.” Anders informed him, before curling a hand into Carver’s black tunic, yanking him close with a grunt, “Andraste’s ninnyknickers…”

“Ninnyknickers?” Carver snickered, “I think you just like making those up to scandalise people, you and Isabela both.”

Anders’ eyes crinkled in the corners.

“I admit nothing. Now...are you coming with me?”

Carver nodded and pushed his tankard to the side. Anders’ smile brightened even more, and for a moment Carver amused himself with the thought that Anders looked like the cat that had gotten the milk, or bird, he’d wanted.

Together they hurried out of the Hanged Man, neither of them hearing Varric’s outraged splutter as he had to come down to the bar to retrieve his tankard.

~*~

No sooner had they made it back to the clinic than Anders had Carver pressed against the door, golden eyes smouldering.

“This wasn’t how I thought tonight was going to go,” the Mage informed him, and Carver barked a nervous laugh.

“You think this was in my plans Magey?”

Anders’ white teeth flashed in the torchlight and then he leaned in. Carver held his breath in anticipation but just a breath away from his lips, Anders paused.

“Something wrong?” Carver whispered, suddenly struck with insecurity, “I um...if this isn’t what you want…”

“Shut up, Carver,” Anders chuckled softly, and his hand lifted to gently brush along Carver’s jaw, “I was just...thinking.”

“About what?” Carver asked, confused and edging towards insulted.

“How gorgeous you are, here in my clinic, looking at me like that.”

The insulted feeling melted away instantly and Carver, ducked his head in embarrassment.

Unfortunately he did it at the exact moment Anders leaned in to kiss him.

“OW!” Anders yelped and Carver’s head snapped up, having felt the sharp bonk of his forehead against Anders’ nose, and saw the healer pinching the offending appendage, “Bwudy hell, Barva.”

“Sorry, shit….sorry!” Carver quickly snagged the bandage he always carried in his pocket and wadded it gently against Anders’ nose, stemming the bleeding, “Fucksakes….”

Anders burst into nasal laughter and a moment later he batted Carver’s hands away as pale blue magic misted over his nose, fixing it instantly, “You are a disaster.”

“That is what they tell me.” Carver sighed, “I’ll show myself out.”

“Carver…” Anders’ hand gently pushed his shoulder, sending his back thudding softly against the wood of the clinic door once more, “I want this. I don’t know how much clearer I can be that I want this…”

“Still?” Carver licked his lips and groaned softly as Anders’ golden eyes locked onto that movement hungrily, “Oh, okay...yeah...still…”

The blond leaned in, fingers slowly undoing the laces on Carver’s breeches.

“Also...clarification,” Anders murmured, lips a breath away from his once more, “I enjoy a quick tumble...but this...oh I’m going to savour you.”

Carver groaned, and next moment he was kissing Anders.

His hands lifted to gently cradle the Mage’s head, thumbs lightly caressing his jaw as he tilted the other’s chin up, deepening the kiss.

Inexperienced he was, but kissing...oh he’d done a bit of kissing. One of his warden associates had even called them toe-curling. And Anders definitely seemed to approve, because he moaned into Carver’s mouth, and leaned into him, warm and wanting.

“You’re full of surprises, Warden Hawke.” Anders purred against his lips as the kiss broke, and Carver groaned, kissing his way down the other’s neck, wrestling with the coat and tunic underneath, “Pity you’re such a little shit...that mouth of yours is magic otherwise.”

Carver laughed against his neck and bit sharply, enjoying the yelp it elicited, “Like you can talk Anders.”

“True...we should form a...club.” there was a note of wistfulness in his voice, a longing deeper than what they were doing, and Carver pulled back slightly to look at his face.

Anders looked a little unsettled, unsure, and so Carver gently brushed his cheek with the back of his hand, and then sank to his knees, “Want me to use my bratty mouth in a more useful way, Magey?”

Instantly, hunger ignited in Anders’ golden eyes once more, and his long, deft, elfroot stained hands, gently carded through Carver’s black hair.

“Maker, yes.”

Carver grinned, and undid Anders’ breeches, considerably less deftly than the Mage had done with his, and tugged the mage free of his small clothes, enjoying the sound that the action drew from the man above him.

He’d done this before, twice, and had enjoyed it, but there was something about this time, something about Anders, that made Carver extra determined to make him go weak at the knees.

So he leaned in and slowly ran his lips along him, feathering his tongue against the warm, soft skin, while he also grasped the mage with his other hand. Anders wasn’t the largest man he’d been with, but he was quite long, and Carver’s hand wrapped around him in a way that was profoundly satisfying.

Apparently it was also satisfying to the blond man above him, as the action earned a truly wanton sound. It made Carver grin against him, and then take Anders deep into his mouth, fingers peeling away as he bobbed, smirking at the noises the actions elicited.

“Carver…”

He’d never get tired of hearing his name on Anders’ lips, especially with that little hitch of breath, the catch of pleasure in his voice.

Carver turned all his considerable focus onto Anders, determined to make the man melt, and it didn’t take long, by Warden standards anyway, for Anders to begin shivering against him, those long elegant fingers tugging at his hair.

“Carver...Maker...I’m…please…”

Carver smirked, thrilled to having reduced the mouthy mage to a few spluttered, moaned words, and sucked sharply.

Instantly Anders’ knees gave way, and Carver held him up, with his strong arms wrapped snugly around his thighs.

“Carver!” Anders’ voice was a wail of pleasure, and the young Grey Warden smiled as he felt the mage reach the edge and tumble over it. Carefully he swallowed around him, until Anders’ noises became discomforted ones, too sensitive for him to continue his ministrations. Gently he lifted the mage and staggered them over to Anders’ private room, small and dark and windowless and musty. But it had a bed, and that was what he tumbled them onto, in a great sprawl of limbs.

Instantly Anders wrapped himself around Carver, nosing at his neck sleepily, “You haven’t...I need to.”

Carver looked down at the mage, and saw the exhaustion in every line of his body, the way his eyelids could barely even crack open, and how utterly boneless he was. Although he was hard as a rock, he smiled, and gently carded his fingers through Anders’ fine blond hair.

“That’s okay Magey, you get some sleep.”

“S’bad sex manners.” Anders mumbled, already halfway to the Fade.

Carver chuckled and kissed his lips softly, “I’m sure we’ll do this again. You can make it up to me then.”

“Stay…” Anders breathed, before he drifted off into sleep, a smile on his lips.

Leaving Carver, aching, but with a deep, warm feeling of satisfaction simmering in his chest.

“I’ll stay.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Anders’ feeling the too thin knobbles of his spine, “Someone has to look after you Magey.”

And he determinedly did not think about the packet of orders waiting for him in his room back at the manor. He could take a week or two here in Kirkwall surely…

...after that…

Well…

Who knew.

[wannawantit-blog]

Kang Daniel ↬ (love-hate AU)

p.s what a god

“Childhood” couple

childhood love?

more like childhood nightmare.

the one thing that probably scarred you was when he ran his paint covered fingers through your long precious hair.

you had to cut it all off and for months, you were mistaken for a boy.

eventually, you never grew out your hair further than your shoulders due to that traumatizing fear.

Daniel was always the cute one.

the one parents would coo at and the one kids would want to be friends with.

when you two grew up, it stayed the same way.

other parents either wanted him as a child or wanted their child to date him.

no one ever wanted to be friends with you though.

people were afraid of you and you were okay with that.

little did you know, Daniel was not.

he was more than aware that it was maybe his fault that you became cold and distant.

he didn’t mean for it. he was just a kid.

now that he was older and saw the way you both grew apart, he respected it and remained just as cold to you as you were to him.

there was always a soft spot in your heart for him because despite his awful teasing and careless actions he had towards you when you both were younger, he always knew how to make your heart flutter.

he cared for you a lot.

without you knowing, he’d make sure no one bullied you or touched you.

in fact, you didn’t even realize that people steered away from you because they knew how much you meant to Daniel.

you thought it was because you were ugly and mean.

“Y/n, right?”

you turned around to see a girl in your year. with an uncertain smile. you nodded once feeling no need to open your mouth.

of all the years in college, no one has ever approached you and it made you anxious a little.

“These are for you.”

she handed you a small gift box. the size of the palm of your hand as well as a single flower.

“Don’t ask who it came from. He told me not to tell you. Have a good day, anyway.”

as she walked away, you blankly stared at the gifts in your hand completely stunned.

did you lead some guy on or something?

days passed and the gifts you received stayed on top of your desk at home, untouched and almost forgotten.

one night, your pen rolled to the back of your desk where the gifts were at and you sighed to yourself.

you’ll have to open them eventually, you thought.

I’m sorry for the things I might’ve done to change you. a flower and the bracelet you’ve always wanted might not even be enough but it’s all I can give you. I’ll be moving soon and I didn’t want to leave with a heavy heart so I’ll give what’s left of the good to you.

I love you.

It probably won’t mean anything now but I can’t leave here without telling you. I never hated you and I never can. I hope our past memories won’t burden you with this apology.

to my childhood, the love of my life, y/n.

you cried now.

why didn’t you open this sooner?

you attached the bracelet to your wrist and ran out of your apartment to a place you thought you’d never go again.

you ran so fast, you felt so dizzy from the overwhelming emotions.

your heart was pounding against your chest and your stomach was churning because you weren’t sure how to feel. you loved him too. but you felt so sorry that he had to apologize for something that he didn’t have to.

you arrived in front of his door, looking up at the window that was dimmed lightly.

tears stained your face and you knocked on it.

“y/n? is that really you?”

“is Daniel home, eomma?”

“I haven’t heard you call me that in years let alone even see you.” His mom said with pure adoration. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“I’m sorry, eomma, but this is really important.”

She chuckled. “I see. Well, he’s at his friend’s house gathering some things for the move tomorrow.”

the move...

for fucksake—

“Who—“

“Seongwoo. Three houses down. Red front door, I’m sure you’ll remember.”

you give her a quick hug before sprinting down the street to the house of your other childhood friend that you completely forgot about.

upon arriving, you can hear the two loudly laughing and you didn’t hesitate to knock on the door.

once Seongwoo opened it, he stared at you in shock.

“Y/n?”

“Hi.” You answered breathlessly. “I know you probably hate me now and that this is the worst way to show up and say, long time no see, but I really need to talk to Daniel.”

“It took you long enough.” He sighed to you with a kind smile. “Come in. He’s doing who knows what with my dog.”

“Thanks.”

when you saw him, your heart just fluttered again. because it was as if you hadn’t seen him in years. you missed him. those years distanced from each other all because he messed with your hair?

he looked up when he noticed the eerie quietness that grew in the room. the first thing he saw was the bracelet dangling around your wrist and then the stained tears on your face.

he stood up immediately and froze in his place.

“So you actually opened it.” He muttered, eyes blankly staring at you. He was hurt that it took so long for you to even acknowledge the gift but you knew he was relieved that you actually did it.

“Can we talk?”

“Can we?”

you nodded sure this time and he narrowed his eyes, taking you by the wrist and dragging you outside, away from Seongwoo’s ears and eyes.

he looked at you with admiration and love. And all you could do was look at him the same way.

“Why did you wait to tell me when you move?” You asked brokenly. “Is what you even wrote a lie to just add to the apology?”

“Of course not.” He defended softly.

“Then why would you leave after confessing your love to me?”

“Why does it matter?” He asked coming closer and your fingertips twitched from his action.

“Because I love you too.”

“Then why did you wait this long to tell me? Why did you wait for me to say it?”

“I was confused.”

“You’re never confused.” He looked away from your pressing gaze and you frowned again. “Y/n, you don’t get confused with anything.”

“You make me confused.” You admitted. “Only you. Because I changed for me but you accepted the fact that it could’ve been your fault. You were okay with me being alone and left me alone. And you’re asking me why I waited so long?”

“You changed.”

“No Daniel.” You looked up to him, your lips trembling now. Your heart hurt and you felt limp. “You changed.”

He finally looked at you. Again sorry and hurt too.

“Don’t look at me like your sorry.” You shook your head and placed your hands on his cheeks. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything, okay?”

“I don’t like what happened to us. I couldn’t leave like that.”

“But you can leave knowing I love you too?”

He didn’t want to wait for the right moment anymore. He pressed his lips against yours and even if it may not have been the right moment, you’ve never been more happy that he was here kissing you.

“You have space for one more in your apartment?”

You rolled your eyes at him and nodded. “I’ve always been alone. Another change can’t be that bad.”

and all you can hear was Seongwoo groaning from behind.